


A Good Day

by Daegaer



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Anthropomorphic Personifications, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Humor, International Relations, M/M, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-21
Updated: 2011-12-21
Packaged: 2018-02-20 15:12:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2433362
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daegaer/pseuds/Daegaer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's one of the better days of Poland's life during the Middle Ages, although his enemy doesn't yet realise it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Day

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted [on the kink meme](http://hetalia-kink.livejournal.com/20749.html?thread=82037773#t82037773), fulfilling a prompt based on [this artwork](http://media.tumblr.com/tumblr_lqkhoeFwRa1qzw9pu.jpg). Thanks to Puddingcat for beta reading!

_Oh my God_ , Poland thought, raising his sword _again_ , and galloping back up the hill, the line opening just enough to let him through, _Is he ever going to freaking_ stop? He guiltily cast a glance upwards. _That's totally a prayer, Lord_. The German Order was a freaking good fighter, he had to admit. Not as good as Poland, of course, not when he was _ready_ and had everything prepared, and _God_ how had he let Liet talk him into this? _Still a prayer_ , he thought as more of the Polish army went down. There weren't enough men between Jagiello and the Teutonic Knights any more, and Jagiello had that teensy-little almost not-worth-mentioning slight personal problem –

Jagiello slammed his visor down, stood in his stirrups and made an unmistakeable gesture to charge.

 _\- of his freaking Lithuanian temper._ Poland felt his mouth set in a thin line. He was hot and _sweaty_ and he really, _really_ wanted a cold drink and a hot dinner. But this was the plan, if Jagiello hadn't set things going too soon, and this was what he was _for_ and – he jabbed his spurs in and went down the hill at his king's side, feeling the shock run all up his arm as he sliced at one of the Knights who got too close. _Please have seen the Lithuanian colours, please,_ he thought as he drew ahead of Jagiello, feeling rather than hearing the other Polish nobles wheeling round in apparent fear, leaving him alone, just one really freaking _obvious_ target. 

"C'mon!" Poland yelled at the enemy. "You saw me with the freaking king! I'm a rich young lord! I'm worth capturing! _C'mon!_ " He hauled his horse's head round, making what looked like a desperate attempt to get back to the safety of the others. Out of the corner of his eye he could see other horses coming up beside him, their riders yelling at him in German to surrender or die.

"Leave him to me!"

Poland risked a look over his shoulder to see the German Order himself coming up fast, the others falling back as ordered. _Crap_ , Poland thought, then _No, this is what we planned. C'mon, Liet, where are you?_ He turned his horse to fight. The German Order had a flail in his hand, its ball spiked and evil-looking at the end of its chain. He swung it round his head once, and again, and struck. 

_Oh, crap, this is gonna hurt_ , Poland thought; he got his shield up and howled as the chain wrapped round the edge, the ball whipping round to smash into his arm just below the elbow. _So, so glad I'm not human_ , he thought, tears of pain blinding him.

"Consider yourself my prisoner!" the German Order yelled, his voice harsh from shouting commands all day.

"Consider yourself a douche bag!" Poland yelled back and let his shield drop from his wounded arm. _It'll get better_ , he told himself. _You haven't lost the use of it permanently_. "I don't surrender!"

"Really?" the German Order laughed. "Poland doesn't surrender? I guess we take every last inch by force, then." He drew his sword. "Defend yourself. It's not as if your pagan allies will." He mockingly waited until Poland had drawn his sword, then attacked.

Poland gritted his teeth as the pain jolted up his wounded arm again. Maybe he could make it obey him enough to draw his misericorde and stab the German Order through the eyeslit of his visor, he thought. The German Order punched him in the face with his shield and kicked his foot out of his stirrup as he rocked back in shock.

 _Or maybe I could fall off my freaking horse_ , Poland thought as he hit the mud. "Ow." He shakily got back up as far as his knees. "Well, this is totally pathetic."

"You said it," the German Order said, and jumped down from his horse. He pulled his helmet off and took a nice big breath of air. "It's about time you surrendered, unless you want me to salt your fields. Because I'll start _here_." He whacked the flat of his blade against Poland's broken forearm.

" _Shit_ ," Poland gasped. "That's not very parfit, gentil knight of you."

The German Order shrugged. "I don't see why a filthy heretic who consorts with pagans deserves courtesy. You've lost – drop the sword and bare your head."

Poland laid his sword down and shakily undid his helmet's straps one-handed. The air was just totally perfect, he thought, and it looked like it was going to be a nice evening. He just wished he had better company. He very carefully didn't let his eyes focus on the movement behind the German Order.

"You're just a bunch of jumped up really _bad_ monks who wouldn't know how to keep their vows if they were explained in, like, really _small_ words," he said conversationally. " _I'm_ the freaking Kingdom of Poland and I don't surrender to _anyone_." As he said it he felt his arm suddenly stop hurting, and it got easier to grin at the German Order's expression. 

"Then go to hell," the German Order said, and drew back his sword for the blow. His expression got even funnier, Poland thought, as Liet closed the last few yards in a flat out sprint and grabbed him, immobilizing his sword arm, and jabbing the point of his poignard up under his chin.

"Drop it," he said.

"You are so totally late," Poland said happily. 

"You ran away," the German Order said blankly. "You ran away like a pagan coward."

Liet pulled him round, keeping the dagger-point against his throat. "You're remarkably easy to trick," he said. On the battle field the Lithuanian army was cutting its way through the Knights' rear, men and horses going down beneath their swords as the Polish army wheeled round from their apparent rout and charged from the front. "If you run away _now_ , I'll let you go. Out of Christian charity."

Poland sat back on his heels, savouring the expression on the German Order's face as the Grand Master of the Knights was unhorsed, falling beneath the hooves and weapons of the Polish cavalry.

"They're dying," the German Order said forlornly. "They're all dying – let me go, let me go, I have to be with them." He took a deep breath. "I can save some of them – let me go and I'll make them leave."

"On your honour as a knight?" Poland sang out and giggled at the poisonous look he got in return.

" _Yes_."

"Then go," Liet said, and shoved him away, watching as he ran to his horse and clambered into the saddle with less grace than usual before galloping flat out towards the fight. Liet turned back to Poland and glared down in what Poland always thought of his _Don't you_ dare _call me a Lithuanian hick again_ expression. "I was not late, I kept exactly to the plan."

"Hey, whatever," Poland said, grinning. "You got here – it's good to see you."

"Your arm – " Liet said, his face changing to sheer worry as he dropped to his knees beside him. "Poland, you're _hurt_ \- let me see, let me take the armour off –"

"It's nothing, it's, like, just a scratch. And it's much better since you showed up," Poland said, "Quit worrying; you Lithuanians, you're _so_ emotional –"

Liet kissed him. Poland found he couldn't remember what he was saying as Liet buried his fingers in his hair and kissed him thoroughly and deeply. It wasn't like he'd thought it might be, not that he'd ever admitted over the last few decades that he might like to kiss him, but when he _had_ imagined it Liet had totally been scrubbed within an inch of his life and was wearing his best clothes and didn't smell of sweat and iron and tired horse and whatever swamp he'd been leading the Knights a merry chase through for the last few hours –

"Wow," Poland said as Liet sat back, then, "Dude, have you been eating raw onions?"

"Yes," Liet said, and kissed him again. It felt even better than before. He rested his forehead against Poland's. "I was so worried," he said quietly. "I thought, _What if the king is killed? What if the union is broken_?"

"You wouldn't have to put up with me," Poland said. He lifted his good hand and pushed Liet's filthy hair back. "You _kissed_ me," he said in sudden surprise, and Liet laughed.

"I'll kiss you a thousand thousand times more, if you want. I _like_ putting up with you."

"OK," Poland breathed, feeling a silly smile creep across his face. "That's cool with me. But maybe we should chase the slimeballs over the border first?" He flexed the fingers of his shield hand. "Hey, I think it is better." He got on his feet with Liet's help and on to his horse again. "A thousand thousand kisses?" he asked as Liet swung up into his own saddle.

"Maybe more, if you're good," Liet said cheerfully. "One now, for luck?"

Poland leant over and kissed him. _Victory_ and _kissing_ , he thought. _This is totally a good day_. "Last one to Malbork's got to deal with the horses!" he said, pulling away suddenly and urging his horse to a canter then a full gallop.

"Cheat!" Liet yelled, but he was laughing as he followed.

 _Yeah_ , Poland thought as they sped after the armies. _Totally a good day._

**Author's Note:**

> The Teutonic Knights suffered a devastating defeat by the Polish and Lithuanian forces at the Battle of Grunwald/Tannenberg in 1411, including the death of the Grand Master of the order, Ulrich von Jungingen. The theory that the apparent Lithuanian retreat was a deliberate plan was given weight by the discovery of a letter written a couple of years after the battle, warning the new Grand Master of the Teutonic Knights to beware of tricks such as apparent withdrawals of forces, such as were used in the "great battle". 
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> Poland quotes Chaucer's description of a "perfect, gentle" knight. Chaucer's knight, the prologue says, fought in Prussia, Lithuania and Russia - he was perhaps one of the many mercenaries who fought over the years with the Teutonic Knights! ( _Aboven alle nacions in Pruce/In Lettow hadde he reysed and in Ruce_ ).


End file.
